Better Than Me
by sunshine2k12
Summary: "Real or not real, you love me?" "Real, always." Just a glimpse into what Katniss and Peeta endured after Mockingjay. Both pre and post epilogue. Not wonderful at writing summaries, it's be easier to get a real feel of it if you read. Now complete - twisted ending, sorry guys.
1. Past

Disclaimer – I do **not** own the Hunger Games, any of its characters or ideas – they all belong to the wonderful Suzanne Collins and all her brilliance.

A/N. This is just something I threw together earlier today. A three part 'story' concentrated around Katniss and Peeta after Mockingjay. Some things may seem out of place or out of character and I apologize in advance for that.

I will continue if you all agree that I should of course. Reviews are very much welcomed.

**Better Than Me .**

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** 1. Past .**

I don't pretend that it happened over night - the recovery and the love that followed shortly or somewhere in between. I can't exactly say how long had passed though. Days, weeks, seasons even - blended with each other on days when my most exciting of actions involved moving from my rocking chair in the kitchen to the bathroom a few steps away.

When Greasy Sae and her granddaughter were the lonely visitors that surfaced, only due to her job of keeping me fed twice a day (weather on government payroll or out of caring I was never sure.) But when they left, my mind was at the mercy of the emptiness that haunted the halls.

In such a large house, I found even the most simplistic shadows played tricks on my every sense. From thinking I could smell Peeta's freshly baked bread, to feeling my mother's light fingers running across my shoulder, or seeing traces of Gale's coal dust on the floors, but worst of all - hearing Prim's ever so joyful laughter.

Prim. My very reason for ever going into those fateful games, to protect her was my main motivation for ever joining the rebellion (besides my obvious hatred for the President Snow.) She deserved a life free from the clutches of cursed Capitol. Now she had no life at all, thanks to the betrayals of the friend I held closest to my heart for over 5 years. No Prim, no Gale, no Peeta, not even my mother remained. The lists of lives I ruined seemed ever growing with a new nightmare every so often to remind me of them. Haymitch was really the only one I had left - which even then Buttercup made a better confidant.

I couldn't deprive him of too much credit, he had come more than once into the woods to carry me back to my house when I became to immobile to do more than breathe after running away from the terrors that were never even tangible. I could almost hear his growls on occasions _"You're becoming pathetic Sweetheart. You thought I was bad,"_ followed by a horrible fit of drunken laughter. As much as I resented him for it, he was right. I hadn't bathed since the horrid day I had come back from the Capitol. I probably wouldn't have if it wasn't for Peeta dragging me back to reality by planting those evening primroses beside my house. In the midst of trying to escape myself, I stumbled on the top of my stairs, I could still smell it. The stench of the single rose Snow had left in my room to die. On every ounce of my body I couldn't shake it. That was the reason I had used ever concoctions my shower supplied on the wad that was once my hair - until it was able to be even combed again. The reason I scrubbed my fire mutt skin until it glowed bright pink.

Again, I owed even more to Peeta (for bringing me back into the world) .I had forgotten how his life was torn apart just as mine was. He also lost both of his parents, and two brothers. He had lost something that he had held ever so close to his heart, they stole every happy moment we ever shared from him, and then distorted it to make me look like the worst evil ever bred in the world. I had not forgotten though. All the things we shared. Even when most of them were forced, they were something for me to hold onto when I was in my darkest days. Even after the Capitol had done to him - he still harnessed such an undying love for me. I felt so ashamed after all that time without giving him so much as a passing glance, or a word between us. I was almost relieved even - when he began showing up with Greasy Sae for meals. I'm not sure if she had sought him out in hope for me or for better company, but his additions to the table always made a difference in my demeanor either way. There was still something left of the boy with the bread deep down inside his shattered soul.

As even more time passed we both began to slowly recover. It started with the dinners when no one said anything but a thank you, then moved on to the slightly sad smile exchanged after an awkward glance. Haymitch had even started coming around more often, while waiting on the Capitol train to bring the next shipment of his liquor, and only after attending to his geese of course. But it was something; it was a little breath of life that we had all been waiting for after so long. I even started answering Dr. Aurelius' calls (as Peeta had instructed after being released back to District 12) . After a while I presented him the idea of the book, the idea I had gotten from our old family plan book, to record things we couldn't trust to memory. A shipment of parchment was on the next train. It was something Peeta and I could enjoy together, without anything conflicting to get in the way.

Another seasoned passed; we began to spend more time alone. The wounds seemed to start closing, even though the nightmares went nowhere. Every night was a different monstrosity trying to rip everything I had ever cared for apart. The screams never softened, the tears never slowed. Then Peeta, once again - stepped up to save my life when his own was in such a spiral as well. I was aware that anyone a house over could hear my screams, but I never dreamed that he would come to rescue me from them every single time. After running three houses down in the bitter cold on his artificial leg every night I began asking him to stay. Not in the same bedroom, of course, but one that had nothing but hollow memories that gathered with the dust on the furniture - and he never left me alone to fend off the terrors.

There were days he wouldn't even open the door until late evening if at all. I knew those were days he spent struggling with the flashbacks supplied to his brain by the Capitol induced tracker jacker venom. It was obvious to me, the way his jaw tightened when he was fighting to keep them clenched, and how he kept a death grip on the closest inanimate object to try to stay hold of reality.

He had only even subdued to it once around me, sending objects flying around the living room at me, along with ever obscenity he had ever heard. It took Haymitch tackling him to the ground, and shouting back in Peeta's face, the reality to what he believed to be true. Even though it wasn't as extreme as his other outbursts, Peeta disappeared for three days after that. I waited for him to come back every night - fighting off ever urge to sleep that I could. I finally gave in on the third night, and went to his house; letting myself in without considering any danger I could be placing myself in.

Shattered canvases flooded what use to be his living room floor, torn painting of me contorted with unknown emotions. I could his whimpers as soon as I began to take in my surroundings. The sounds echoed from his bedroom where he sat in a corner, face buried in his hands unable to stop the sounds that escaped him. I didn't honestly know what else to do. I had hurt him yet again.

I put my arms around him, for the first time in so long, and held him as he sobbed. He hesitated before he wrapped his stiffened arms around my waist, and then held me as tightly as he dared. I decided not to say anything at all, just listened to him as he poured out his soul to me. The apologies weighed nothing on his confessions of conflicting love he held for me still. The darkness of the room hid my emotions that showed on my face as I fought with myself trying to sort through my own feelings on the spot.

He looked at me from the first time since I embraced him, his eyes the most dazzling blue ever witnessed. It hit me, like a punch straight o the gut. The heat flowed through my body relentlessly from my head to my toes. My heart seemed to start beating again, faster than I could ever remember. I could feel the tears stinging my eyes, as I tried to convince myself that doing this would only make things worse. I lost that battle with ease. So when he asked me,

_"Real or not real - you love me?"_

I replied with _"Real. Always."_


	2. Present

Disclaimer – I do **not** own the Hunger Games, any of its characters or ideas – they all belong to the wonderful Suzanne Collins and all her brilliance.

A/N - Thank you very much , kidfreak , your review is much appreciated. Thank you also, to those of you who added my story to favorites/alerts. Only one more part after this – it may seemed bunched together and if so – I apologize!

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** 2. Present.**

We watch them play, outside of what has become **our** home in the Victors Village, hand in hand. She tries to teach him to dance; only his small toddler legs restrict him from most advanced movements. But they laugh and sing all the same with their hair blowing in the wind, hers dark brown and his blonde curls; our beautiful children that were never desired in my earlier years. I swallow hard at the thought, of not ever being blessed with them at all. A small piece of my heart fell to my stomach out of guilt.

I jerked from my own thoughts due to Peeta squeezing my hand, as the boy tripped over his small feet. As I look into Peeta's eyes I can see the concern, but I give him a reassuring smile as she helps the baby stand back up. I had never seen a parent with such pride that Peeta held for our children. Such unconditional love he had in his heart, which was almost whole again. He still struggles though, when the back of a chair becomes his anchor to sanity. She asks me why he does so, but I have a hard time trying to describe it to her, after all Peeta was always the one who had a way with words.

Peeta tells our daughter that it's his way of insuring that he doesn't lose control. He explains that the Capitol had played tricks on his memories, the kind that makes him feel likes he's in immediate danger when something triggers the change. He tells her how awful it can be, but how long it's been since the last attack. She always has questions about the Capitol and all it used to be. How they captured her father and why the memories of the games cause me to lash out at unseen terrors in my sleep every night.

I try to tell her, about everything that haunts me so, leaving out details and horrific deaths that would scare or damage her. She still has her undeniable innocence that I cannot dream of someone taking from her, like mine was stolen before I could savor having it. One day she'll learn of the things I try to hide from her, from the lessons they teach in schools now. How the Mockingjay: sparked the rebellion, lost almost everything she had held dear in life, killed the first president after the war was won, and was deemed mental unstable where she was sent to live out the rest of her life in District 12. She'll know how we'll never be a normal family - and in time so will my son. But they will have our book, to remind them of all the good things in our lives that we never want forgotten. They will still be able to live with an untainted happiness.

We only watch as they run at the now, over 60 year old, Haymitch who stumbles toward our home. They bring happiness to him as well, as much as he can possibly rationalize at least. I smile as I consider how happy they make everyone they meet. How, even with the gap in ages, Finnick and Annie's son visits most often because of them. How people in the town smile at us when we pass, other than avoid our gaze because of them. How they can even get **Effie** to take of her ridiculous heels and join them in their games. They bring a simple joy alive in people which cannot be ignored. So much like my little sister Prim.

I feel distant, during the visit with Haymitch in which he shares that he has fought off Plutarch Heavensbee's requests of our children being interviewed in the Capitol on live television for all of Panem to witness. I would have taken them into hiding before I would have allowed it, of course. But Haymitch stuck himself out there for us yet again, and Peeta spared no expense on thanking him over and over again. Of course Haymitch didn't stay long, he could only suffer sobriety so long for the children - and then his demons force him to give in again. Darkness falls as I stare aimlessly out the window from the kitchen thinking of how persistent Plutarch was, until both of our children approach us with goodnight hugs, kisses, and _I love yous _before making their way to bed.

I follow Peeta to our own bedroom, and only after we our both dressed and ready , lay down in his arms. As I look up at him he smiles his most amazing smile, which causes my heart to swell with joy and then my cheeks to turn red with embarrassment. He smirks at this of course, the fact that I still get this way around him at all. When he brushes a single strand of hair from my face, and then kisses me, I can feel the hunger begin raging inside of me – the same one that is every so often resurrected. The same hunger that began to rise on the beach of our second Hunger Games, and engulfed me on the nights both of our children were conceived, and on random occasions in between.

I force myself from his lips, while allowing his arms to stay tightly wrapped around my waist, and my fingers entwined with his beautiful blond hair. He stares at me, confused; but I only stare back into his _amorous_ blue eyes. I smile at him automatically before saying,

"_You have always deserved better than me."_

"_You've got to be joking, Katniss." He laughs. _

"_I'm completely Serious Peeta. Haymitch once told me I could live a thousand lifetimes and still not deserve you. I always agreed with him on that. You are the very embodiment of what good is." I insist. _

_All he does is laugh yet again. _

"_I'm being honest. I'm not even half as great as you are, or our children. You all deserve so much more." _

He only shushes me after this, rubbing the small of my back with his most gentle of touches. I don't object as he begins kissing me again (trying to convince me of how he feels about me) – erupting the hunger in my soul once again. I can only give in and let the flames of our passion consume me as I have thousands of times in the past 25 years.

I can't help but smirk at the thought when we're done – _Katniss, girl on fire._


	3. Reality

Disclaimer – I do **not** own the Hunger Games, any of its characters or ideas – they all belong to the wonderful Suzanne Collins and all her brilliance.

A/N. This is the ending to my three part fanfiction. I hope you all enjoyed it , thank you again for your reviews kidfreak, and JHutchluver - you all made my day. Thank you all who story alert/favorited as well, it made me smile. If there are any mistakes, I apologize now - my Microsoft Office has been messing up something awful so I was forced to use WordPad haha. I do realize this chapter is kind of long, but I had to wrap things up. Thank you for reading!

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** 3. Reality .**

The last thing I can remember was falling asleep in Peeta's arms as he brushed his fingers through my hair. Listening to the sound of his heart beat to escape the nightmares that were sure to await me. I know I'm awake now, but I can't force my eyes open for some reason. The sounds of faint beeping and voices cause me to panic. The first word that comes to my mind is hospital. One of the places I dread the most, it has to be it. By the smell of cleaners and the noises of the machines fighting to keep someone alive, confirm this in my mind. My eyes are still heavy, but I still fight for the smallest glimpse of this frightening situation.

My neck is sore, and I can feel something cold wrapped around it – but I can't lift my arms to investigate it further. Now that I'm actually trying, I can't seem to move any of my limbs. _Fight!_ I hear my thoughts scream. _You are Katniss Everdeen, you survived two Hunger Games, a rebellion, and two child births – you can open your eyes!_ I struggle at another attempt, but come up empty again. The words seem to repeat endlessly in my mind: open your eyes. When I start to feel as it's impossible, that I will never see Peeta or my children's smiling faces again, they start to flutter open.

The light here is unnaturally bright which makes it a lot harder to get a clear view of exactly where I am. I bring in the florescent lights in perfectly uniform rows that glare back at me as I blink twice to dim their ferocity. I take in what I can see of my surroundings to find long curtains hanging in a circular position around, what I'm guessing is my hospital bed, on all sides leaving only a tiny opening showing a small portion of the white room on my right side. I wince in pain as I struggle to move my neck around the collar that is clasped around it to try to get a better look of who was at my bedside. After a few tedious moments of effort I was finally turned enough to the right to take the form into view. It was Haymitch; an incredibly younger looking Haymitch. I took into speculation that since I was in the hospital, that probably meant I was in the Capitol , so he could have had a full body polish while here - but that seemed unlikely. He's sitting in a plush looking chair while reading what seems to be a newspaper.

I try to open my mouth to speak to him but my throat is not only dreadfully dry, but protesting in pain by burning ridiculously. I swallow hard, trying to clear it without success. I look helplessly down at my arms that are littered with IVs, but lacking my fire-mutt patchwork skin. They must have done a body polish on me as well, it figures. Something hit me , like a wave of fear over my entire body - **what happened to me**?

The machines that must be vital for my survival wouldn't be here for no reason, and not by a light injury at that. I had just been asleep in Peeta's arms - did he have a flashback with out me even knowing? Is that why I'm here ? It couldn't be, he was m y Peeta again; he had taken control of his outbursts, he would never hurt me , especially to this degree. I turn back to look at Haymitch who glanced over the newspaper in time to catch my gaze. He stares at me for a moment, then lets a half smile creep onto his lips. I opened my mouth again to fight for words be he beats me to it.

"Doctors wouldn't like you talking for a couple of days there Sweetheart."

I had the strangest feeling of deja vu, like I was repeating something that had happened in a former dream. Maybe something too far back for me to register, but it was there, laying dormant in the back of my self conscious.

_"Wha-what happ..."_

He cuts me off before I can manage to choke the rest of my question out, to my relief because those few simple sounds sent pain soaring through my throat.

"You don't remember anything?" He asks leaning in toward me from his chair.

I shake my head and try swallowing hard a few more times to continue speaking.

"Apparently we underestimated Snow, and what he was having done to Peeta."

I almost choked on the small bit of saliva that remained in my mouth at his words. Snow, that's impossible, he died over 20 years ago. I seen it myself. I'm not sure of it's out of shock or pain, but I don't speak, only shake my head. Haymitch studies my face for a moment before he stands and begins walking away from me, to what I guess is the door. I turn my neck to look up again, and begin to count the tiles that make up the ceiling, trying to regain my bearings. This must be one of my nightmares, one of the kind that tries messing with the rationality of my life. Like the dreams I have ever so often of Prim coming to see me while I was still in bed, holding my hand and telling me everything is going to be okay. To images of Gale coming to me in the middle of the night, only to kiss my forehead then leave without a word. But this, this dream is torturous, yet I can't make myself discover where the undeniable similarity is coming from. I close my eyes to attempt to wake up, or fall asleep - which ever I was opposing. All I manage is to find a rhythmic pattern in my machines that must be pumping liquids into my IVs.

After what seems like days of trying to focus on nothing but the machines, I can hear a door open and feet begin to shuffle into the room although I can't figure out how many pairs. I hear the curtain pull back from my bed before I force my eyes open again. The lights bling me for a moment, then I'm able to focus on the figures around me. My mother - before he remaining beauty was grief stricken and broken, Gale - young and as handsome as he ever could be, Finnick - alive and radiating with happiness, and Prim. Prim; her wonderful blonde hair pulled back into a braid, her brilliant smile still stretched across her face, and air clearly flowing through her lungs - her heart still beating. I can't even register thoughts before they begin to speak.

"You're finally awake, the doctors and I were beginning to worry." My mother pipes out.

"You gave us a scare there Catnip" Gale says after letting a smile cross his tired looking face.

"You were out for almost three weeks," Prim exclaims " we weren't sure if you were going to come back to us at all. Of course it must have been from mental stress since the doctors confirmed that your injuries were not too severe."

I open my mouth to speak, only to me attacked by pain again. Finnick snaps his fingers as if he knows exactly what I need, then leave the group; only to return seconds late with a glass of water. He presses it to my lips and I can not refuse; I drink the water thirstily. The relief is almost instant as the water flows down my throat , cooling it. I can feel my voice starting to return.

_"I'm dreaming again, aren't I?" _I can hear the wreckage in my voice as I let out a horrible sounding laugh.

"No, but you probably had plenty of it while you've been out." Gale snickers.

"I watched you both die in front of me." I say nodding at both Finnick and Prim.

"Well that is horrible, but as you can see - we're both here and breathing." Finnick replies in his usual calm tone.

_"No, this is a dream. I was just asleep with Peeta hours ago. Our kids had just went to bed, we had only just finished a visit with Haymitch. I would do anything to bring you both back - anything! But I know when I wake up, when reality sets in, I'm just going to be haunted by all of your faces."_ I say fighting back the tears that were beginning to sting my eyes, and the blush that I am attempting to fight is slowly making an appearance. I can almost see hurt, or anger on Gale's face at my statement. I couldn't read his expressions anymore, it has been so long since I have even laid eyes on him.

"That's impossible Katniss, you're only 16, and I'm not sure how you could ever have kids with Peeta after what he done to you." Gale spat.

I can feel my blood start to boil but I recoil instead of attacking Gale. I focus on trying to move my feet again. I start with simply trying to wiggle my toes, while blocking every word of those around me , and after I finally manage to wiggle each of my toes once, I begin on my legs. It's infuriating work, trying to mobile myself again, especially while people who don't even really exist keep barking things at me.I have to give my self conscious credit though , for this is the most realistic dream I have ever had by far. I finally get my knees to bend, now I can lift my arms off the bed far enough to rip out my IVs while fighting off hands trying to stop me. My head is spinning as I sit up, weird to feel something so real from something so imagined.

"Katniss , you need to stay down, you're not ready to move around like this!" It's the sound of Prim's voice shrieking at me that drags me back to listening to them. But I still disobey, swinging my legs off of the side of my bed to embrace her in the tightest hug I can conjure with my arms this weak. Without warning, the tears that were stinging my eyes began to spill over onto Prim's nursing uniform.

I feel her arms return my gesture as she speaks: It's okay Katniss, I'm sure the real Peeta never meant to hurt you.

I begin to weep harder at the words everyone keeps telling me, even though deep down I know it's a lie. Prim breaks from our hug and cautiously backs away from my bed as if to give me breathing room. No sooner than the though makes it's way into my mind, I find myself starving for air as if my lunges were gradually being cut off. I stand, trying to gain relief, only to be met by the cold tile floor as I'm not able to fully use my legs yet. I hear them gasp and feel their hands lift me onto the bed- but my mind is racing as quick as my heart now, and I'm too busy trying to concentrate on a memory that I forever pushed from my mind many years ago.

I can practically feel Peeta's hands crushing my throat as I remember that day in the hospital of District 13. I can feel all of my limbs beginning to tremble. I can feel myself shouting as I throw my head back onto the pillow of my bed, but I don't hear the words escaping my mouth. _It's all untrue, this is only a nightmare, you have to wake up. Scream louder, maybe Peeta will hear you and shake you awake. Wake up, wake up, wake up!_ I continue to repeat the words to myself as I thrash as much as my body will allow.

They plunge a needle into my arm, and it's venom takes over my every being. I feel myself stop shouting, and I start to fall back into darkness. I find the thoughts of waking up in Peeta's arms again and let it submerge me.

It's silent here, nothing but black abyss surrounds me now. No lights, no machines, no voices, no faces. That was until something, or someone, jerked me back to the light. Again, it blinds me momentarily. And again, I'm starting into Haymitch's eyes.

"Are you almost done with your fit , Sweetheart?" His tone is sarcastic, yet surprisingly sober.

_"Am I awake now, is it all back to normal?"_ I ask.

Haymitch lets out an annoying laugh before he considers responding.

"When has anything involving you been normal. Let me lay it out for you Katniss, since everyone else is being too damn sensitive toward your mental state. Whatever your illusion was about Peeta and children, it was just that, an illusion. You're still in District 13, you are still only 16. Peeta had been tortured with tracker jacker venom - causing him to believe in a distorted version of his memories if you. H e believes you killed his family, he believes you are pure evil Katniss. That's why he tried to crush your throat at your reunion weeks ago. Are you understanding this?"

I continue to look into his eyes, to attempt to find dishonestly - but I find no trace. I try sitting upright again, but struggle at the smallest attempt. Haymitch notices this and props me up on my pillows.

_"I don't understand Haymitch, this has to be a dream. You don't get it - I could not have dreamed up over 20 years in just three weeks. I have a life that I've come to love - I want it back."_ I find myself fighting back tears once again - how weak I have become as of late.

I can see the sorrow take over Haymitch's expressions.

"I'm not sure how you did manage that, but I'm telling you the truth. I am sorry, but you will have to either mourn the life you thought you had or you can fight to relive it."

_"I have to see him."_ Were the only words I could choke out through my emotions.

"I don't think it's a good idea, but if it will convince you, I believe I can make it happen."

He leaves with that, steadily walking out the door not bothering to close it behind him. I don't want to try to sort through my thoughts, because in my heart, I know this is still not real. Before I can even try to find a way to get back from this horrid dreamland, Haymitch returns with a wheelchair.

"They would only agree to this if you would take the wheelchair instead of walking, and Peeta would stay restrained." He informs me.

I simply nod in agreement, I suppose this is better than nothing at all. Haymitch lifts me into the wheelchair, I find myself surprised at the strength sobriety brings to him. After making sure I'm secured, he begins to wheel me out of the room into a brightly lit, all while hospital hallway that reeked of pain and antiseptic. I look only down at my lap on the solemn ride to Peeta's room. I take into account that I am dressed in a hospital gown instead of my actual clothes, and I seem thinner than what I remember. Then again, it is only a dream, everything must seem different.

"Here we are," Haymitch began "you have to remember Katniss - he has the ability to kill you." I could tell he was serious, but the thought makes me laugh to myself it is so preposterous.

As he pushes me inside, I can see Peeta, with his arms strapped down to his bed that is ever so similar to the one I was just in. He looks up at me, his blue eyes stained with a cloudy expression and hint of what could be hatred, but I shake it off as my minds playing tricks on me again. His blonde curls seem to be in a matted mess which angers me at his caregivers negligence. His mouth curls up in what seems to be a smile but a little too twisted. He must be at least a bit happy to see me. Even if it only a illusion, he is still **my** Peeta.

I can't think of words to say to him after just seeing his face brings me such elation. I notice Haymitch has disappeared from behind me and I seize the opportunity to be close to Peeta. I wheel myself close to his bed as I can possibly get. I can see him tense up as he clenches his jaw, but I ignore it - my desire to just feel his touch over powers all voice of reason. I inch myself to the edge of my wheelchair, and lay my head in Peeta's lap. His warmth sends waves through out my body, it feels as if I haven't seen him in years. I can feel his hands move toward my head, but I don't protest in knowing that he feels the same thing I do. His fingers intertwine in my hair, and a smile finds it's way to my face as I can hear panicking footsteps rush toward the room.

I wasn't convinced it was real until I felt his grip on my hair tighten , and felt my own forehead, then right temple being bashed into the side of Peeta's metal bed rails. The pain from my wounds has no comparison to that inflicted on my heart. The blood flows wildly, as people rush in the room to save me from my attacker. My ears are ringing again, like they did when the explosion in the first arena took one of them off. I pay no mind to it, as my soul is screaming out in distress. Every sentimental memory I had from what I thought was the last 25 years flashed before my eyes, and I begin to go over a list in my head, of this new reality.

_My name is Katniss Everdeen, I am only 16 years old. I am still in District 13. I was never married to Peeta Mellark. We never had children together. He just tried to kill me. He might succeed in killing me._

Even with all the facts laid out in front of me, I can't help but still believe - he always deserved so much better than me .


End file.
